


eden

by InsideMyBrain



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Blasphemy, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Pornography, Implied/Referenced Human Trafficking, Pornography, pre-Schism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideMyBrain/pseuds/InsideMyBrain
Summary: Before the schism, VFD was a noble organization that bravely fought fires both literal and metaphorical. They didn't kidnap children, they saved them.





	eden

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Babylon Berlin](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/373422) by Tom Tykwer. 



> this fic is based on a scene in the show Babylon Berlin. I was originally gonna write a long fic based on the whole show (bc some parts have heavy vfd vibes) but honestly it's too complex and context-dependent to do a good adaptation, so i just did this instead. Maybe I'll write more fic based on some of the subplots later.

The woman stands in the bathroom, regarding her reflection under the harsh, sputtering lights. Her dark curly hair is unkempt and her clothes are wilting like old flowers. Her organization puts out fires, and this particular fire has worn her thin. She grips the cold ceramic of the bathroom sink and gives her reflection a hard glare. Soon it'll be over, and they'll get some new recruits and turn a profit to boot.

When she emerges some minutes later, a man grins at her from the stairs. “Finally done?” he asks jokingly. The light from another Volunteer's flashlight reflects off his head. He's young, in fact the same age as she, but he's already beginning to go bald.

The woman nods a confirmation. “Let's go.”

She joins him on the stairs, and the two of them lead their group of Volunteers up two flights of stairs. The building they're in is mostly abandoned, except for an office space on the top floor. Research has told them there will be people there tonight, and as they approach the top floor landing, they find they're correct. Noise floats out of a slightly-ajar door. The woman steps closer to the door, peering into the adjoining room.

The adjoining room is large and brightly-lit, though the many people inside give it an illusion of being smaller than it is. Most of the space is being used as a film set; from the props set up around the room the woman can tell it's obviously a crude set of the garden of Eden. Small potted plants are scattered about, and at the very back is a large fake apple tree with a snake painted into its branches. In the middle of this set are a man and a woman, evidently supposed to represent Adam and Eve, and he's fucking her from behind. In front of the couple are a row of about a dozen people. One of these men is working the camera eagerly, and the man sitting beside him is yelling out frustrated instructions to the actors.

“Turn this way, I can't see a God damned thing!” he's yelling. “That's better. Now Kohr, you're on.”

Another man walks onto the set and starts fucking Eve's mouth. The woman turns away from the door to beckon to the Volunteers they should move in.

Their group enters so quietly that none of the people in the room notice, so the man purposely knocks over a set piece. The shattering of pottery and the subsequent sight of the Volunteers sends people into a panic. The actors shriek and rush for their clothes, and the director leaps up and yells at the intruders.

“How dare you come in here like this! This is a private place of business and you are trespassing! I'll call the fucking police on you!”

The woman laughs. “No you won't. Where are the children?”

The director's face twists. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Just then, a small outburst comes from a corridor on the other side of the room. The man and woman give each other a sharp look, and immediately start towards the sound.

“You can't just barge in here like this!” the director continues to rage.

“My God man, shut up,” says the man, then to some of the other Volunteers: “restrain him.”

Two Volunteers hold back the director as he continues to yell. Most of the actors have scattered by now.

The party proceeds down the corridor, stopping in front of another door. Muffled voices can be heard from inside. The woman tries the handle; it's unlocked.

She opens the door, and the voices quiet immediately. Inside the room are more actors, all boys — young boys. They range in age from small children to older teens. Many of them are dressed in white and have cardboard wings attached to their backs. If not for their hauntingly hollow eyes, they would bear striking resemblance to cherubs.

“Who are you? What's going on?” one of the boys demands fearfully. He looks about sixteen.

“We're Volunteers,” the woman replies, “and we've come to offer you a spot in our organization.”

The boy raises an eyebrow but doesn't reply. Another one speaks up.

“What kind of organization is yours? More of the same?” He gestures around him.

“Nothing like this at all,” the man assures him. “We belong to the Volunteer Fire Department, a noble organization that puts out fires both literal and figurative.”

As her colleague begins the introductory speech, the woman subtly closes the door behind her. She doesn't want any of them sneaking off.

“...our true home is the imagination, and our kingdom is the wide-open world,” the man concludes. Some of the boys seem intrigued, but many are visibly confused or repulsed.

There is silence for a moment, then the first boy speaks up. “Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not giving up my job to join a cult. I need to support my family.”

“Hear, hear!” says another, and the cry is taken up by more.

“But if you join us, your family will be supported,” the woman tells him. “They'll be sent money every month, and as for yourself, you'll never want for anything again. You'll be trained in a luxurious headquarters in the mountains, our most safe, secure, and attractive VFD safe place yet.”

“They need me,” he insists, then falls silent. He refuses to say any more after that.

“Excuse me,” a small voice says, and the woman looks down to see a young child squirming through a cluster of teenagers. “I wanna join.” He can't be more than eight years old.

“Excellent,” the man says. “Step forward, so we can take a decent look at you. What's your name, son?”

“Haruki,” he says solemnly.

The man smiles. “Welcome to VFD, Haruki.”

They manage to recruit most of the younger children and a few pre-teens, but the most suspicious and unwilling are the teens. They only get one, a fifteen year old who said he'd join when they confirmed he'd be able to eat three meals a day. When they finish recruitment, they've gotten most of the children there.

“And the rest of you have definitely made up your minds?” the woman asks, to various affirmations. “Alright. Just remember: you were given a chance.” With that, she turns and exits the room. Her colleague follows, leading the children they've recruited.

Outside the room, the woman clutches the brass doorknob hard. “Take them to the car,” she says, nodding to the new recruits. “I'll take care of the rest of them.”

The man nods shortly, then beckons to the other Volunteers. They pounce like vultures upon the children's ankles and drag them, screaming and sobbing, down the corridor.

The woman, still maintaining her grip on the doorknob, pulls out a bobby pin from her hair. She inserts it into the keyhole of the door, and after wiggling it this way and that, the door clicks quietly, locking the boys in. She straightens up and walks away to find a telephone.

She finds a battered pay phone in the lobby of the building, and luckily, it still works. She lifts the reciever to her ear, inserts a few coins, and dials.

“It's me. Do you still need boys for your film? … They're probably about eleven to sixteen. … There's eight of them. … The usual price. They're locked in a room on the top floor of the abandoned building on Main and 32nd. You better get here quick.”

The woman hangs up the reciever and walks out of the building to the long black automobile that sits purring on the curb. She gets in the car to wait.

In the backseat, the children are screaming. They always scream.


End file.
